


Because Gravity

by AnonBeMe



Series: I Fell In Love When You Drew Me A Snowflake [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:46:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonBeMe/pseuds/AnonBeMe
Summary: “Am I dreaming?” Clarke whispers. It's not meant as a question to be answered, but the words kept pressing on and so they spilled from her lips like a dreamy sigh.She squeals in surprise as two sneaky fingers pinch at the soft skin above her hip.“Lex!” She scolds, but she doesn't have it in her to be mad at her because she'snotdreaming. It's real and wonderful, and it's all because of Lexa.orA collection of moments, scenes, events etc. set in the AU of Strangers On A Bench/Lovers In A Park (the snowflake series). If you haven't read those two, I strongly suggest you do.Each chapter stands alone. Chronological order isn't a thing. Feel free to prompt me things you'd like to see: past, present, future.





	1. I Am. You Are. We Are.

**Author's Note:**

> We're at it again. I can't let this AU go. I love them so much <3
> 
> I've been working on this one shot for a couple of weeks.  
> It takes places between chapter 20 and 21 of Lovers In A Park (that's the proposal and the day after their wedding). If you can't remember those chapters, you could go back and read chapter 20, then this one and after that, chapter 21. 
> 
> Readers wanted more of the wedding, incl. vows (but Lexa nearly doesn't speak... so, how would that go?). 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme
> 
> ps. I titled each scene because they're tiny stand-alone moments. Let me know if you think it's a terrible idea? (I'm experimenting a little...)

#### AM I DREAMING.

“Lex?”

Lexa shifts to look at Clarke. Even in the darkness of their bedroom, Clarke's wide grin is clear as the day.

“I can't sleep.”

Lexa grins back. She can't sleep either. She moves an arm up over Clarke's head to allow her to cuddle closer. Clarke doesn't need to be told twice. She lays her head on Lexa's chest, the tip of her fingers dancing around Lexa's snowflake tattoo before brushing against the edge of her jaw. They settle, like so many times before, somewhere in that wild chestnut hair she loves to sketch.

Images of cherry tree blossoms against a clear blue sky, a set of sparkly green eyes and that beautiful ring keeps Clarke awake like a child high on sugar. She's engaged. To Lexa. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet, but she's already addicted. It feels pretty damn great.

“Am I dreaming?” Clarke whispers. It's not meant as a question to be answered, but the words kept pressing on and so they spilled from her lips like a dreamy sigh.

She squeals in surprise as two sneaky fingers pinch at the soft skin above her hip.

“Lex!” She scolds, but she doesn't have it in her to be mad at her because she's _not_ dreaming. It's real and wonderful, and it's all because of Lexa.

Wrapping her arms around Clarke, Lexa pulls her closer until golden hair tickles her nose and legs tangle with her own. Yeah, this actually does feel a lot better with a ring on Clarke's finger, she decides.

They lie there in the dark, a blissful cocoon of love and safety, not sleeping, just breathing each other in until the early morning light begins to shimmer on their bedroom walls.

   
  


°*°  
  


#### BACON.

Clarke blinks, the midday sun aggressively attacking her through the blinds. Her body aches from exhaustion after a long, stressful night shift and although she badly needs more sleep, she knows it won't happen now.

She's too awake.

She smells bacon, too.

There's a faint memory of Lexa kissing her goodbye a couple of hours ago, so it must be Raven in the kitchen. Her stomach growls and it’s all the incentive she needs to get up and join Raven in the kitchen.

Tired and wobbly, Clarke takes a seat by the high kitchen table. She yawns, too tired to actually voice her presence.

“Finally! Thought I was gonna have to eat all this alone,” Raven says, turning off the stove.

“I thought you had plans with Anya?” Clarke rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

“She got called in last minute, figured I might as well take advantage of it and make my best friend brunch,” Raven smiles.

“My stomach and I appreciate it,” Clarke quips as her stomach growls again.

“Coffee, eggs, bacon, grapes… Dig in,” Raven says, as she, too, takes a seat.

There's a moment of stillness where coffee is being poured and food is being scraped onto plates. Clarke takes a bite of a crispy strip of bacon and hums her approval.

“You're the best,” Clarke says, dreamy eyes softly pressed shut to better savor the taste on her tongue.

“I know,” Raven says. “So, how's the engaged life?”

The question causes Clarke to grin sheepishly, which in turn makes Raven roll her eyes and regret she ever asked. It's been three weeks, and while Clarke has gotten used to wearing an engagement ring, she still turns into a blissful, sappy fool every time someone asks about her fiancée.

“Nevermind,” Raven says. “Did you pick a date yet?”

“Not yet, but we talked about Spring next year,” Clarke says. “We're looking into the possibility of having the ceremony at the park.”

“The cherry trees?”

“Yeah, and the gazebo.”

“Of course,” Raven smirks. When Clarke looks at her with questioning eyes, she elaborates, “Lexa has turned you sappy. It suits you.”.

“Oh, shut up, Rae,” Clarke scolds, but her grin is impossible to hold back and it makes Raven laugh.

Clarke has no care in the world; she's Lexa's fiancée.

   
  


°*°

####    
PIANO.

“Hello?” Clarke closes the front door behind her and walks down the hallway listening for any signs that Lexa is home. Clarke knows she isn't, but she still feels the need to double check.

No answer.

“Anybody home?”

Silence.

Clarke tiptoes in a light run, full of secret plans and jittery excitement. She pulls out her homework – the carefully folded note sheet – from her pocket and places it against the shiny black sheet holder on Lexa's piano.

Clarke listens one last time of evidence that her fiancée is home. It's of uttermost importance that she isn't caught. Learning to play the piano, even if it's just a song or two, is Clarke's wedding present to Lexa. It would be a shame if she were to get caught – this is by far the ultimate present.

She places her thumb on the C – that's the white key to the left of the two black keys – and carefully presses it down. It vibrates in the air around her, and she takes another moment to make sure Lexa isn't home.

More silence.

Taking a deep breath to calm down her nerves, she then proceeds. She plays the C again and continues to play the next white key with the next finger. C - D - E - F - G.

It sounds okay. She feels the proud grin on her lips and shakes her head a little. It's odd, how this feels like a much bigger achievement than drawing intricate snowflakes. Clarke wonders if that's how Lexa feels every time she makes one of her mutated stick man drawings.

She plays the scale exercises Lexa's old piano teacher has given her and then she plays the soft snowflake-like theme from Clarke's Song before she gently folds the sheet back into her pocket.

A half an hour later, Lexa is home. She finds Clarke preparing dinner in the kitchen, humming along to the radio. Walking up behind her, she snakes her arms around Clarke's waist and leaves soft kisses on the nape of her neck.

“Hey,” Clarke greets her.

Lexa leaves a kiss on her shoulder before stealing a slice of bell pepper.

“Piano?” Lexa asks.

“What?” Clarke panics a little inside.

Lexa points to the radio, then to the piano.

“Oh, yeah. Please.” Clarke calms down, sending Lexa a playful smile. “Play that funky music, fiancée of mine.”

Lexa chuckles as she turns off the radio. She steals a kiss from Clarke's lips, hand cupping her cheek, before stealing another slice of bell pepper.

Taking a seat behind the piano, Lexa runs a few scales up and down the piano to warm up her fingers. Clarke smiles to herself, they're the same exercises she has safely tucked into her pocket right now.

It's June. A Spring wedding seems so far away right now. Clarke sighs and prays that for once she'll be able to keep her surprise a secret.

   
  


°*°  
  


#### I AM. YOU ARE. WE ARE.

It's a lazy Sunday morning, and Clarke gets up only to crack open the window. The beating sun heats up their bedroom too fast in the summer, but an open window and a minimum amount of clothes usually does the trick. Clarke pulls off her tank top, a playful smirk on her lips as she saunters back towards the bed, towards a wide-eyed Lexa who follows Clarke's movements with a lazy smile on her lips.

“Fiancée of mine.”

Clarke’s voice, soft as silk and mild as honey, reaches Lexa's ears about the same time as Clarke’s legs straddles her. Something inside Lexa's chest explodes, her senses suddenly on overload. Clarke grabs her hands, entwines their fingers and pulls Lexa up into a sitting position. Lexa as blissfully paralyzed and watches as Clarke gently pulls off her tank top too.

Lexa feels a little like butter in Clarke's hands, her skin burning under Clarke's fingertips as they trace patterns on her shoulders, upper arms, chest.

“Lexa Griffin,” Clarke husks, a smirk on her lips.

It pulls Lexa back to reality. She wraps her arms around Clarke's waist, their torsos melting together.

Lexa leans in to steal a kiss but stops barely an inch from Clarke's lips. “Clarke Woods,” she says, narrowing her eyes in a challenge.

It's a wonderful thing, Lexa thinks, to be able to fall in love with Clarke's beautiful smile over and over again.

“What, so we exchange lastnames? I'll be Clarke Woods and you'll be Lexa Griffin?” Clarke asks, the teasing tone in her voice extends to the tip of her tongue that finds Lexa's bottom lip.

Lexa shakes her head. “Griffin-Woods,” she says.

“Mh…” Clarke pretends to mull it over. What Lexa doesn't know is that this is exactly what she wants. Griffin-Woods has a nice ring to it. “Why not Woods-Griffin? You prefer yours as the last one?”

“No,” Lexa says, and Clarke believes her.

“Alphabetical order…” Clarke says, mostly to herself. It's one of those thoughts she speaks out loud before it really settles in her mind. She takes a reading eyebrow at Lexa. “You want Griffin-Woods because G comes before W? Really, Lexa? That's your reason?”

It's no use fighting the blush on Lexa's cheeks. She wants both names because it's symbolic for the unity they'll become. And yes, Clarke is right about the alphabetical order.

Before she can answer, Clarke is laughing again. It's that uncontrollable, bright laughter that usually means Lexa is being adorable and Clarke wants to kiss her. Lexa doesn't understand her need to put things in order is adorable, but if Clarke wants to kiss her for it, who is she to complain.

“Okay, fiancée of mine. Soon-to-be Lexa Griffin-Woods. How about we get up, take a shower and go to the park?”

Lexa's reply is a sheepish grin, one of those I'll-follow-you-to-the-end-of-the-world grins.

   
  


°*°  
  


#### CRASH.

Food, then sleep. That's all Clarke is thinking as she opens the front door. No. First a hot shower, then food and _then_ sleep. Maybe she'll skip the food in order to get to bed earlier.

She's been taking extra shifts at the hospital this week, not because she wanted to, but because they desperately needed her help. They lost a kid today, something that always takes its toll on Clarke. She's tired and exhausted, sad and broken, she misses Lexa terribly, and if that wasn't enough, she was nowhere near an umbrella when the sky suddenly exploded leaving her soaked all the way through.

She steps inside and pushes the door shut behind her. The relief of finally being home washes over her and awakens the need to cry. She doesn't even realize her eyes are pressed shut until warm, soft hands cup her cheeks.

Lexa.

Clarke feels a kiss on her forehead, warm lips against cold, clammy skin. Her hands are warm, too, as they swipe away strands of hair from her face and then gently run down her arms until they tug at Clarke's hands.

Clarke opens her eyes then, unwillingly not able to speak up, but willingly following Lexa. She finds herself being pulled into the bathroom – the big one, the one with the shower cabinet big enough for two. With vulnerable eyes, she watches as Lexa carefully undresses her, relieving her of the wet clothes.

Lexa then turns on the shower before undressing herself, too. Clarke is still not able to speak, but it doesn't matter, because Lexa knows that all she needs is comfort. Taking Clarke's hand, Lexa runs a thumb across the tiny green stone in her ring before pulling her into the shower.

Meeting the hot water, Clarke realizes she's shivering. She might be crying, she's not sure, but it's okay because Lexa pulls her into a hug letting the shower water surround them, heating up their skin. It's refreshing in ways Clarke can't explain. Skin against skin, naked and bare. The soft, warm water mingles with soft, warm kisses until Clarke finally feels her body relaxing.

Lexa washes Clarke's hair; her own, too. It's not a necessity, but she knows Clarke's favorite smells makes her calm down and that includes their shampoo.

“Thank you,” Clarke whispers.

Lexa answers with another soft kiss to her forehead before she shuts off the shower. She dries off Clarke first, wrapping the towel around her shoulders before drying off herself.

“Stay,” Lexa says, and she hurries to pick up sleepwear for the both of them – boy shorts and loose t-shirts. She picks up a pair of fluffy socks for Clarke, too, not sure if she wants them, but she wants to give her the choice.

It's a simple thing. Lexa settles Clarke onto the big L-shaped couch with blankets under dimmed lights. She prepares two plates with the lasagna leftovers from last night and takes a seat next to Clarke.

It's a very simple thing. They don't talk. They eat quietly, thighs pressed together under blankets, and while this evening feels a bit melancholic, both women enjoy how easy it is to just be together. It's there in the silence that both of them find comfort.

It's something Clarke has learned from Lexa; something she hopes she'll never lose.

They have the house to themselves this weekend, so when Lexa places their plates on the coffee table and goes to cuddle with Clarke on the couch, it's with the intention of falling asleep right there in the middle of the living room – the heart of the house – while the storm rages on outside.

Clarke shifts to lie on top of Lexa, most of her body between her legs, her head resting on her chest. Lexa runs soft fingers along Clarke's spine, up and down, until Clarke breathes a sigh of relief.

“This is nice,” Clarke mumbles. She can't deny that she might be drooling a little.

Lexa responds with a kiss against golden hair.  
“Could we do this for our honeymoon?” Clarke asks.

Lexa taps a finger against Clarke's shoulder twice to get her attention. Clarke lifts her head to meet her eyes, her questioning eyes.

“This. You, me, a cabin somewhere. Pulling the plug. Just be,” Clarke says.

Lexa nods, a smile on her lips. She likes the idea.

“Maybe a hot tub or something too,” Clarke continues, a timid smile on her lips.

Lexa quirks an eyebrow.

“You know, then we can take showers together, long showers, sitting down,” Clarke hides her grin in the fabric of Lexa's shirt. She feels the barely there vibrations of Lexa chuckling under her.

“More?” Lexa asks, a smile on her lips that she can't hold back.

“Well,” Clarke says, a hand sneaking up under Lexa's shirt to rest against her abdomen. “It needs to be a place warm enough so that you’ll walk around in very little clothes.”

Clarke waits for a response, but doesn't get any, so she lifts her head again only to find Lexa looking at her with disbelieving eyes.

“What?” Clarke asks innocently.

Lexa sighs wistfully. She runs a hand through golden hair, considering all of Clarke's wishes. The truth is, she'd give Clarke anything. If Clarke wants a cabin in the middle of nowhere, a hot tub and warm enough temperatures to walk around half naked, who is Lexa to complain? It's sounds pretty great, actually.

“Deal,” Lexa says.

“Mh, I thought I'd have to convince you,” Clarke says, knowing full well that Lexa prefers colder temperatures.

Lexa barely gets a chance to ask Clarke how, before Clarke shifts to meet her lips.

They're soft kisses to begin with. Tiny ocean waves molding against each other. Lexa isn't sure just how vulnerable Clarke is tonight, so she lets her set the pace. She lets Clarke undress her with steady hands and lingering touches. She lets her taste her skin with a teasing tongue. She lets Clarke command her, into a sitting position, and Lexa does without breaking eye contact. Clarke wants to undress for her and with wide eyes and a beating heart, Lexa lets her.

It's the simplest of things.

Clarke needs to feel in control of _something_ and Lexa gladly gives it to her.

She awaits Clarke's next move, looking up at her beautiful fiancée standing naked in front of her in the dimmed light of the living room. She's breathtaking, the gentle rise and fall of her chest reminds Lexa of her favorite blue oceans. She wants to touch Clarke, to run her fingertips down her skin, watch her shiver under her touch. She wants to, but she doesn't, because this is about Clarke taking what she needs.

Clarke moves forward to straddle Lexa, sitting in her lap. She guides Lexa's hand between her legs and tangles her own with Lexa's hair. She pulls their lips together and soft waves grow to crashing tsunamis within a heartbeat. With one arm around Clarke's waist, Lexa makes sure to catch Clarke when she crashes.

She crashes more than once tonight.

Lexa does too.

(As Clarke falls asleep sprawled on top of her between blankets on the couch, Lexa panics a little because they broke the rule: no sex in the common room.

Lexa doesn't know, but Clarke had the same thought a little while ago, except she was smiling, not panicking. She suspects Raven and Anya to have broken that rule once or twice themselves, anyway.)

   
  


°*°  
  


#### UNACCEPTABLE THINGS.

It seems easy. Too easy, in fact.

All the horror stories Lexa has heard about wedding preparations gone wrong: venues cancel bookings last minute, the bakery delivers the wrong cake, that one and only wedding dress is either sold out or not ready in time. The list is long.

None of it applies to _their_ wedding, though, and for that Lexa is grateful.

Of course, there's the issue about the weather. Choosing an outdoor wedding is quite the risk, but end of April is usually just the right amount of sunny – not too hot either – so it's worth the risk. While Clarke is sure it'll hold – _”it's our wedding, Lex, fate won't allow it, I just know”_ – Lexa, on the other hand, refuses to take the risk. It's easily handled; she's got a backup plan ready in the form of a pavilion or two. Clarke insists they won't need it, but Lexa sleeps better at night knowing any foul weather won't ruin Clarke's dress – whatever it may look like.

Six weeks to go, and everything is going according to plan. Lexa only has one issue: her vows. It's the proposal all over again. Things need to be said, and she needs to be the one who says them. It's even worse this time because there'll be other people there, not just Clarke.

“What's troubling you?” Anya asks.

They're at Anya's favorite restaurant, that Italian place near her office, having a sister lunch. When Lexa looks up from the menu in her hand, about to give Anya a questioning look, she realizes she's already frowning. Then she frowns a bit more.

Raising one eyebrow, Anya prompts Lexa to elaborate.

Putting the menu down, only to pick up her notebook, Lexa decides this might actually be that one thing she’s going to need help with,so she writes down her concern.

_’I don't know what to do about the vows. I won't be able to speak them.’_

“Did you talk to Clarke about it?” Anya asks.

Lexa shakes her head, because the one thing that's harder than speaking in front of a crowd – which is nearly impossible – is to tell Clarke that she won't get vows spoken out loud at their wedding. It's hard because she knows Clarke will understand, but she shouldn't have to. It's hard because Lexa _wants_ to give this one thing to her. More than anything, if she's to speak only one thing for the rest of her life, she wants it to be the vows.

“Well, what are your options?” Anya asks.

Lexa shrugs. Speak and not speak. One won't happen, the other is unacceptable.

“I have an idea,” Anya says.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. If Anya can fix this hurt in her heart, she's willing to listen.

And listen, she does.

They talk over lunch – Anya's schrimp pasta and Lexa's salmon dish – about the improbable act of giving Clarke spoken vows at their wedding in front of everyone.

Leave it to her sister to come up with a plan that could actually work. It's the heaviest stone in the world lifted off Lexa's shoulders. It's a really good plan, too. Now she just needs to write the actual vows.

It shouldn't be too hard, right?

   
  


°*°  
  


#### WOODS WOMEN.

Falling asleep on this night might be the hardest thing Lexa has ever had to do. It goes beyond her ability to stay sane. Her body buzzes with the excitement of tomorrow, and the fact that she can't stop thinking about it makes her miss Clarke more than she's ever missed her before.

They're not doing a traditional wedding, but Raven and Anya still insisted that they couldn't spend their last night as non-married together. Thus, Anya kidnapped Lexa for the night at the Woods Mansion leaving Clarke, Raven and Raven's parents to themselves in the house. That's why she's currently sitting in her childhood home in the middle of the night staring at her old childhood grand piano surrounded by darkness and the memories of Clarke's kisses.

She doesn't remember the last time they didn't sleep next to each other. Even when Clarke works the night shift, they still get at least a few hours together.

She feels incomplete.

She wishes she could play the piano, play the night away, make it pass faster, but she’ll wake up the entire house if she does.

Anya took her phone, so she can't even text Clarke; she has a feeling Clarke can't sleep either.

“Alexandra,” her mom speaks from the doorway, her voice calm but rough from sleep. “Can't sleep?”

Indra pulls an old, sturdy wooden chair to take a seat next to her youngest.

Lexa shakes her head.

“Mh,” Indra hums, a smile lingering on her lips. “When I married your father, I was the same. I was excited and nervous and I missed him.”

The silence hums around them while Indra takes a moment to reminisce her own wedding.

“You know, I tried sneaking out to go to him,” Indra chuckles. “Of course, Jill, my best friend, had anticipated that, so she caught me before I could get away.”

Indra laughs lightly at the memory and Lexa looks at her in awe. It still surprises her that she was never able to see this version of her mom growing up.

“Come on,” Indra says, resting a hand on Lexa's shoulder as she gets up from her chair. “Let's make some tea. It might help you relax.”

It's near 1am when Anya joins them in the kitchen, a certain look in her eyes, the one that says, _’why am I even surprised you're awake’_. All three Woods women are seated on the kitchen counter, legs dangling lazily, tea cups long emptied.

“Ready for tomorrow?” Anya asks, nudging Lexa's shoulder with hers.

Lexa nods, then shakes her head, then shrugs. Anya chuckles and nudges Lexa's shoulder once more.

“You'll be fine, sis.”

They sit there, the three of them, for another twenty minutes. It's mostly Indra and Anya talking about last minute details. It's silly, because everything is perfectly planned and ready, but Lexa suspects that they're doing it for her, to reassure her it's okay to go to bed.

When Lexa starts yawning, a part of her wants to be stubborn and stay awake because Clarke isn't here and it's unfair, but she also knows she's going to need as much sleep as possible to be ready for tomorrow.

Going to bed, she pictures once again how Clarke might look like in her dress. She has absolutely no idea. None. It's a blur of nothingness in her mind, but Clarke is beautiful nonetheless.

Then she falls asleep.  
  


 

°*°  
  


#### THAT GRIFFIN SMILE.

Falling asleep on this night might be the hardest thing Clarke has ever had to do. She curses Raven and Anya for taking Lexa from her tonight. She kind of wants to wake up to her wife-to-be on the morning of their wedding and it sucks a little that she can't kiss her goodnight.

It's not all terrible. Her mom and dad are here, too. It feels a little like a family reunion, an amputated one, but still, it's good. It's so good to have them here, joking with her dad and talking about life with her mom, that she feels a little guilty. She knows Lexa doesn't feel the same amount of excitement spending an evening with Indra and Gustus, but at least Anya is there.

When Abby and Jake go to bed, Clarke stays up to flip through the book of sketches she gave Lexa on their first anniversary. It's after midnight when Raven finds her still wide awake on the couch.

“What are you still doing up?” Raven asks.

“Can't sleep,” Clarke says, her eyes fixed on the sketch she added last year, the one of them lying in the grass by the gazebo.

“Did you try?” It's more of an accusation than a question.

Clarke shrugs.

“Nervous?” Raven says, taking a seat next to her.

“A little bit. I'm terrified that I'll be messing up the piano surprise,” Clarke says, closing the book and placing it on the coffee table.

“She'll love it, don't worry,” Raven smiles, resting her head against Clarke's shoulder.

“Go to bed, little ones,” Jake grins from the hallway.

“Jake!” Abby scolds him gently, her arm around his waist.

“What, honey? Tomorrow is important, they need their sleep,” he says in faux seriousness, that Griffin smile revealing his true colors.

Abby rests her other hand against Jake's stomach and leans into him. She doesn't answer his question, there's no reason to. She's used to his games and knows better than to spur him on with rational thinking. She sighs, and he plants a kiss on the top of her head.

“You father is right, though. You should get some sleep,” Abby then says.

“I'm fine,” Clarke says, rising from the couch. She goes to hug her parents, lingering for a little extra comfort before saying goodnight.

She lies in the dark thinking she's not _entirely_ fine. A piece of her is missing tonight. The piece that kisses her goodnight and runs fingers through her hair.

She seeks comfort in the fact that she'll be Clarke Griffin-Woods tomorrow at this hour. She'll go to bed as Lexa's wife, and no one will ever force them apart for a whole night again.

She sighs and buries her face in Lexa's pillow. It vaguely smells of Lexa's perfume. Clarke yawns thinking that she is in fact tired.

Then she falls asleep.

   
  


°*°  
  


#### COME WHAT MAY.

“Stop,” Anya says, placing a hand on Lexa's knee.

They're both in the back of Mitchell's car on their way to the park. Lexa is restless and nervous, she can't control the bouncing of her leg and it's driving Anya mad. This car ride is too long, or too slow. Both, maybe.

Forcing her leg still, she looks out the window. The sky is deep bright blue today, and Lexa isn't sure whether they're immensely lucky with today's weather or if everything is more bright and more wonderful because it's her wedding day.

A smile creeps onto her lips.

Not long now.

In the meantime, across town, Abby is crying – first of many times today – when she sees Clarke in her dress. The blue dress Clarke picked out because she knows Lexa has a thing for her blue eyes. She's wearing the snowflake necklace too; the one Lexa gave her on their first Christmas together. Some might say that the blue stone in the snowflake pendant doesn't match the green stone in her engagement ring, but to Clarke they're the perfect match. Partners in crime, both equally guilty of making Clarke's heart flutter.

“Mom,” Clarke sighs, “it's just a dress.”

“That my daughter is wearing on her wedding day,” Abby sobs.

“Is everyone ready?” Jake asks, receiving nods and _yep’s_ from everyone.

Clarke doesn't feel like testing her fear of cars on her wedding day, so she and Jake take the fifteen minute walk to the park, while Raven and Abby drives to meet everyone at the gazebo beforehand. If everyone keeps on schedule – which they will, Lexa assured her – they'll all be at the gazebo waiting for Clarke to walk along the row of cherry trees before taking that last turn and walk towards the gazebo. They considered doing the walk together, their guests welcoming them, but Lexa couldn't deny she had fantasized about standing at the gazebo waiting for Clarke, and Clarke wanted to give her the experience.

Jake offers his arm, and Clarke gladly takes it. She needs his calm strength to keep the restlessness at bay.

“I love you,” Jake says, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in his throat.

“I love you too, dad,” Clarke smiles.

Those are the only words they speak as they stroll along sidewalks until they reach the entrance to the park. Clarke smiles, thinking about all the times she's gone to the park to meet up with Lexa – as a stranger, as a friend, as a lover, as a fiancée and now to become her wife.

There's something organic about it, a cycle of some sort, one that doesn't have an end. A spiral, perhaps. Every time they reach the starting point they're at a higher level, better and more. Elevated.

“That's the bench,” Clarke says, pointing at the spot she met Lexa for the first time, and Jake squeezes her arm, trying his best not to get emotional on his daughter's behalf.

They reach the cherry trees and Clarke stops. She looks up, appreciating the soft pink against the bright blue sky. She lets the gentle April breeze caress her bare skin, her face, her arms, and for a fragment in time it almost feels a little like Lexa's touch. Her heart picks up speed as her mind wanders to what awaits her at the end of the row of cherry trees.

As if on cue, she starts moving again; like gravity pulling at her towards the inevitable.

“Are you ready?” Jake whispers before they turn the corner.

“I've been ready since the day she asked me,” Clarke answers.

The first thing she sees, is a group of people. Indra and Gustus are both laughing lightly at something Abby is telling them. Lincoln has his arm around Octavia's shoulder and next to them is Bellamy and Niylah. Raven is on the far side talking with Mitchell. It's not until she passes the group of people she sees her.

There, in front of the gazebo, Lexa is trying really hard to stay calm while talking to Anya who's by her side. Clarke sees the miniscule signs; how she straightens her back and squares her shoulders, how she smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes like they normally do.

Lexa hasn't noticed her yet, and she takes a moment to appreciate the breathtaking woman in front of her. Clarke knew she wouldn't pick a dress, but other than that, Lexa kept her choice of clothing a secret just like Clarke did. The white shirt and the green tie neatly tucked under her grey vest really suit her. So suave, so… Lexa, is what comes to mind. The artist in her can't ignore that Lexa’s colors blend with the trees around them while her own blend with the sky above them.

Jake squeezes her arm once more and then lets go. “Go get her,” he whispers, before walking towards Abby.

Clarke lowers her gaze to better ground herself in the moment. She's shaky from excitement, and while that isn't necessarily a bad thing, she wants more control of herself before walking towards Lexa.

When she looks back up again, Lexa's eyes are on her, wide and awestruck. There's a moment where Clarke needs to remind herself to breathe, and to keep moving. Nothing else exists than Lexa's green eyes and the distance between them that shortens with every step Clarke takes. She barely even registers that Raven wolf-whistles, making everyone else chuckle.

Clarke stops in front of Lexa, her favorite half smile pulling at her own lips too. “Hi,” Clarke whispers and when Lexa’s smile grows to her eyes, Clarke has to fight the urge  
to closes the distance and kiss her. It's what she'd normally do.

The government official who's there to marry them are talking but neither Lexa nor Clarke registers what's being said. It's not until Anya – bearer of rings, standing only a few feet away – clears her throat, that they break eye contact.

Clarke looks at Anya who smiles at her holding out a ring to her.

“I believe you wrote your own vows, Clarke,” the government official smiles. “Go on.”

With shaky fingers, she takes the ring from Anya and holds out a hand to Lexa. When Lexa places her hand in Clarke's, Clarke gives it a little squeeze and takes a deep breath.

“Fiancée of mine,” Clarke starts, sharing a little grin with Lexa. “I thought long and hard about what I wanted to say to you today. While I do my best to tell you every day how much I love you, it seems words are never enough. What you've taught me, though, is that where my words fail me, there's another language, another way to express myself. You communicate to me through your music and I to you through my sketches.”

Clarke pauses, to catch her breath and to savor this moment. There's birdsong around them and Lexa looks at her like she never wants to let go. Clarke squeezes her hand and continue.

“When I need reassurance from you, you give it to me the best way possible. It's in the way you hold me, and kiss me, and look at me. It's in the way you proposed to me right here on May Third last year, two days early, because it felt right.”

Clarke bites her lip, trying to keep her grin from overtaking her face.

“That's what you are to me. _You. Feel. Right_. I love you, Lexa. I promise to always work hard to make sure that this feels right to you too.”

Clarke hears several people sobbing, her mom loudest of all. A single tear escapes Lexa's eye and Clarke has to swallow hard to keep her own at bay.

“Do you Lexa Woods take Clarke Griffin as your wife,” the government official say.

Lexa anchors herself in Clarke's eyes, and the thought of so many people looking at her awakens an anxiety she hasn't felt in a long time. She's spoken in front of all of these people before, but the problem is that now everyone expects her to.

There's a gust of wind, that lifts the loose strands a golden hair around Clarke's face. It's graceful, a little like slow motion, and it distracts Lexa long enough to forget about everyone else.

“I do,” Lexa says, and Clarke slides the ring onto her finger. The platinum band is cold against her skin, but it warms her heart, and she wonders if this is what Clarke felt like that day last year; ecstatic, excited, happy.

“And your vows, Lexa?” The government official prompts.

From Anya, Lexa receives the ring and a reassuring nod before looking back at Clarke.

“Clarke,” Lexa whispers, then swallow a hard. “Love,” she then says, addressing her as if it was another letter in her notebook. She takes Clarke's hand in hers and then gives Anya back the ring.

Clarke is a little confused, but Anya quickly says, “No need to worry.” Anya then holds up the ring and says, “Lexa has something she wants to tell you and while you know she's not a fan of using her voice, the rest of us will be lending her ours on her mission.”

Anya then walks towards Mitchell to hand him the ring. While doing so, she also sets Lexa's vows in motion, the ring moving from hand to hand between their wedding guests as they speak their part.

“Before I met you, I thought love was lost on me for good,” Mitchell says and carries the ring forward.

Raven takes over. “Then you drew me a snowflake, and against all odds…”

“… it melted its way through my stone walls and settled in my heart,” Niylah finishes.

Clarke has been looking at the wandering ring up until now, but something inside her tells her to look at Lexa, and when she does, she realizes Lexa has been observing her all this time. Lexa gives her hand a little squeeze and Clarke feels the tears well up as she listens to the rest.

Bellamy then says, “It took us a while to find each other but I never had any doubts about you, about us.”

A pause, then Octavia. “I needed time, you gave it to me and for that I’m forever grateful.”

“We’ve been inseparable ever since,” Lincoln says, his smile clearly visible in the tone of his voice.

Jake takes over. “I remember all of our firsts, most of them are connected to this park, but I think this right here is my favorite one.”

And through sobs, Abby says, “You taking my name and me taking yours.”

“I can't wait to have more firsts with you,” Indra says.

Gustus takes over, his voice moving closer as he walks towards Lexa. “Good or bad, come what may.” He rests his hand on his daughter's shoulder as he hands back the ring. He then gives Clarke's shoulder a little squeeze too before going back to his spot.

There's a moment in which all Clarke hears is the thudding of her heart. Lexa reaches up to thump a tear away, Clarke doesn't realize till then she's been crying.

“Love you,” Lexa whispers. She swallows hard. It was meant to be louder than that, but her throat is dry.

“Do you, Clarke Griffin take Lexa Woods as your wife,” the government official says.

“Yes, I do,” Clarke grins, impatiently surging forward for that kiss she's been longing for since last night.

The government official chuckles, “okay, kiss away while I pronounce you wife and wife.”

More wolf-whistling. Cheering. Birdsong from the trees. Clarke and Lexa hears none of it, they’re lost in their own little world.

Realizing she’s still holding the ring in her hand, Lexa ends the kiss. She gently places the ring on Clarke's finger and while doing so, she says, “Clarke Griffin-Woods.”


	2. When Little Hands Speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I the only one missing Peanut Griffin-Woods?  
> We're in this together <3
> 
> I apologize for the short length.  
> I hope you you can still enjoy it, though.
> 
> (I didn't want to spoil anything beforehand, so at the bottom of this chapter, you'll find a couple of links that might help you with the visuals of baby signs if you're curious).  
> ~anonbeme

“Is my nephew a handsome boy or what?” Raven exclaims, proudly holding an eighteen months old Noel up – not unlike Rafiki presenting Simba to the animal kingdom.

It’s near noon on a Saturday, and Raven had come rushing through the front door – as fast as her leg brace would allow her – yelling “I found the cutest thing!” as she picked up Noel from his Duplo session on the floor and ran off with him. She’d come back five minutes later with a bright smile on her lips and Noel in new clothes: a white flannel onesie with a baby blue snowflake pattern.

Clarke tries her best not to encourage all the many gifts everyone buys for Noel, but she can’t deny its cuteness factor. She’s pretty sure it’ll turn Lexa into a gooey mess, too, when she sees it.

“Look at him,” Raven says, shaking him a little, causing another fit of giggles from the little boy.

“I see him, Rae, you’ve been buying him things again,” Clarke says, narrowing her eyes in a playful accusation.

“I had to! Look at it!”

“It _is_ kinda cute,” Clarke admits.

Raven walks towards Clarke, whispering things in Noel’s ear with a mischievous smile on her lips. Clarke knows what’s coming, and she lets it happen because Noel loves it. Anything Noel loves, she kind of loves too. Patiently, a soft smile on her lips, Clarke waits for them to reach her, for Noel’s tiny hands to grab her cheeks and for the drool-infested kiss to land on her lips.

It's a little disgusting but it melts her heart nevertheless.

He's still hanging from Raven's hands, his feet kicking again. “Mom,” he says, mumbling the consonant. Inevitably, it makes her smile.

Clarke nearly cries when he crosses his arms over his chest – sign for love. It's clumsy, his arms not fully crossed. While Clarke knows he isn't old enough to understand what love is, it still hits her hard. She blames the hormones as she blinks away the water in her eyes.

Lexa has taught him to sign _’love’_. Noel doesn't know it's Lexa's nickname for her, but he knows it's a sign to use when addressing Clarke. Just like he calls Clarke ‘mom’, he uses the sign for mom to call for Lexa.

“Are you crying again, Clarke?” Raven teases.

“Shut up, Rae. Give me back my kid,” Clarke says, as she takes Noel from her.

The laughter spilling from Raven only grows stronger when Clarke scowls at her. “Come on, Noel, let's wake up Momma,” she says, pressing her lips against fluffy golden hair.

Noel is calling for Lexa using the mom sign long before they reach the bedroom door. It’s another one of those things that melts Clarke's heart, and she wonders how long it'll be before he realizes that his momma can't hear his signs.

As she twists the doorknob, her heart picks up speed, and she realizes just how much she misses her wife. Lexa has been working a lot this week, and between hospital hours, Lexa's crazy schedule and taking care of Noel, they haven't had much time alone. A few sleepy kisses and hushed _I love you’s_ while one goes to sleep and the other wakes up. Clarke wants more, and today is the perfect day for that.

Noel calls for his momma with his silent hand again, and Clarke puts him down onto the bed next to Lexa.

“I think she needs a kiss,” Clarke tells Noel.

As Noel places a drooly kiss on Lexa's cheek, Clarke runs her fingertips along Lexa's arm.

Lexa's eyes flutter open to meet her two favorite pairs of oceans. While they usually bring her joy, this morning they fill her with melancholy. It's five days of missing out that hits her like a wrecking ball against brick.

She's not sad, just overwhelmed.

“Wifey or mine,” Clarke says.

It's all she says.

The melancholy in Lexa's eyes is like a knife to the heart. They haven't been communicating much lately, and Clarke worries something is terribly wrong.

Lexa knows she worries. Too tired to form any words, not even a single one, she reaches up to cup Clarke's neck and pull her down for a kiss. It's chaste and desperate, and Noel interferes with a hand gently smacking against Clarke's cheek.

“You okay?” Clarke asks.

Lexa nods.

“You sure?”

Lexa pulls Clarke in for another kiss before nodding once more.

“Okay,” Clarke says, figuring Lexa will tell her later if she isn't okay. “We've missed you.”

It brings forth Lexa's half smile, the one Clarke loves the most. “Peanut,” Lexa whispers, running a hand over his golden hair and down his back. She lets it rest there as she presses a kiss to his forehead.

Noel's giggling is by far Lexa’s favorite sound. Clarke's bright laughter is a very close second. Or maybe they both share first place. That's reasonable, she thinks.

It's better than music.

Better than medicine, sometimes, too.

Noel uses his hand to call for his momma again, and that's when Lexa sees it. The onesie. Tugging at the fabric with thumb and index finger, she looks at Clarke in a silent question.

“Rae,” Clarke explains.

Of course, Lexa thinks. While she prefers any gift given to Noel to be of sentimental value as opposed to materialistic, she knows Raven bought this out of pure love. That, she can accept. He looks adorable in it, too. Lexa briefly considers adding a second snowflake tattoo under her collarbone; it's not the first time she's had that thought since Noel was born.

“Hungry?” Clarke asks, pulling Lexa out of her thoughts.

Lexa nods. She didn't have dinner last night, so her stomach is one big empty pit growling like a rottweiler. She doesn't have to voice it, Clarke knows that Lexa forgets to eat when she's busy.

There are many things in life to be grateful for, Lexa thinks. This moment right here is one of those. A pocket of time, just big enough to fit herself and the two loves of her life. She remembers a time she had one pair of favorite blue oceans, and a time before that when she had none. Now she has two pairs; it makes her the luckiest person alive.

“Love you,” she whispers.

This time it's Clarke who isn't able to speak. Instead, she brushes a kiss against Lexa’s nose, and then Noel's nose.

In between the two of them, Noel sits, a smiley mess of pure joy. He lifts his hands and touches his fingers together before pulling them apart in a wavy motion. Sort of. He's still a clumsy toddler with unstable hand coordination.

He makes the sign again.

It makes Clarke laugh, loud and bright. She signs it back to Noel thinking about the many times she's been trying to teach it to him. This is the first time he's used it without being prompted. What good timing it is.

It's one of the first signs Clarke made Lexa teach her. She only saw it fit to pass on the legacy.

“What’d you say, Wifey,” Clarke says between laughter, “want bacon?”

Noel is every bit his mom’s son, Lexa thinks, making no attempt to fight the smile on her lips. She lets herself drown in blue eyes and bright laughter. As she looks at her family, she realizes that all traces of melancholy has vanished from her body.

Yes, she wants bacon.

 

* * *

  
baby sign references:

* [love](http://www.babysignlanguage.com/signs/love.gif) * -- * [mom](http://www.babysignlanguage.com/signs/mom.jpg) * -- * [bacon](http://www.babysignlanguage.com/signs/bacon.gif) *


	3. Talk To Me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write something for this AU for a while, but I've been busy with my new multi chapter fic (My Soul Alight). 
> 
> I finally hit some inspiration <3
> 
> A reader (I'm sorry, I don't remember who) once prompted "an argument" and I've been racking my brain ever since trying to figure out what these two would argue about. Any argument would probably be about one hurting the other. So here goes... 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme

“Lex,” Clarke says, tentatively reaching to brush a strand of Lexa's hair back behind her ear. “Come on, please, look at me.”

Both lingering awkwardly – too tense to sit down – in the middle of their living room. Silence hang in the air, suffocating both of them. 

When Lexa loses her own battle, meeting Clarke’s gaze, it's with a raging storm in her eyes that sucks the air out of Clarke's lungs. Clarke wonders if the tears on Lexa's cheeks will burn her hand if she were to wipe them away, if they're as acidic as they look. 

If Lexa will let her… 

Clarke deserves whatever pain Lexa deems a proper punishment, and she almost breaks when Lexa allows her to brush away the tears. Lexa's jaw muscles are tense against Clarke palms, the lukewarm tears are soft against Clarke's skin and Clarke feels sick knowing she caused this. 

Clarke deserves to feel broken. 

Clarke doesn't deserve the ring on her finger. Not the white gold with a green stone she received when she said _yes_. Not the platinum band Lexa slipped onto her finger when she said _I do_. 

Not the one on Lexa's finger either. 

“I'm sorry.” Clarke almost hyperventilates as she pulls in air, it stings her lungs harder than the wetness that separates her from her wife, but not nearly as much as the pain that builds in those green eyes. “Please, talk to me. I don't know how to fix this…”

The truth is, Lexa doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know how Clarke can fix this. She doesn't know what tomorrow brings. She doesn't know what she wants. 

Well, she wishes she could erase the image from her mind. 

“You have to believe me, Lex. What you saw was… I didn't see it coming. I… I pushed him away. You saw that. Right? Please tell me you saw that.” Clarke pushes the words out, trying her best to make sense of a desperate mind. 

Lexa blinks. She did see Clarke push him away, so she nods, only once and not at all believable, but Clarke hangs onto it like it was a life vest. 

Because Clarke feels like drowning and the water is icy cold and bottomless, too far off shore, and Clarke can't swim. All she has to cling to is a battered piece of driftwood that nearly sinks under her weight. 

The thing is, before Clarke pushed him away, Lexa saw him kissing her, and Lexa can't erase that from her mind. While it keeps flashing like a dizzying round of strobe light in Lexa's mind, all Lexa sees is _Clarke_ kissing _him_. 

Except, that's not what happened. 

Lexa's mind knows that's not what happened, but something inside her wants to see a betrayal. It's easier to shut Clarke out if she wronged her. 

It's easy for Lexa to coil into herself. 

“Lex…” Clarke pleads, but Lexa's mind is stuck in a loop. 

He kissed Clarke and Clarke pushed him away. The detail of Clarke taking part in it is Lexa's insecurity playing tricks on her. It's the devil's advocate telling her that she and Clarke haven't had sex for too long because Clarke doesn't want her anymore. Lexa's little devil on her shoulder tells her that _he_ is the cause for that. The little angel on the other shoulder tries to convince Lexa that it happens sometimes and it doesn't mean they don't love each other; its voice is weak, but it's there. 

“Can I hug you?” Clarke whispers, her voice laced with tears. 

It pulls Lexa back to reality. She doesn't know what hurts more: the ache in her heart or the pain in Clarke's voice. Lexa feels utterly alone. She's shaking and she needs to gain back control of her body if she isn't to have a panic attack, so she nods, accepting Clarke's embrace. 

The warmth from Clarke's hands travel around her torso, shaky and hesitant, until Clarke's front is gently pressed against Lexa's. Lexa feels tears soak her shirt, and lips press against her snowflake tattoo. 

Traitorous lips. 

No. 

Involuntarily traitorous lips. 

“I'm sorry, Lex. I thought he was my friend. I promise I'll never see him again. I don't want to see him again,” Clarke says, her voice hoarse and weak. 

Lexa's heart hammers in her chest and she can't tell if it's anger or anxiety. Or insecurity. Or something else entirely. 

It's a loose cannon, she settles. Bound to go off any second now. 

“I will do anything you want me to do to gain back your trust. I only want you. I only ever want you, Lex. Please. You have to believe me.”

Then Clarke breaks. And she hyperventilates for real now. Incoherent words try to escape her lips, but the fear of losing Lexa heaves them back inside. 

Lexa's arms tighten around Clarke from years of routine. Clarke's fingers keep an iron grip on Lexa's shirt, and she cries so hard that Lexa needs to support her body weight. 

That's when Lexa’s mind repeats what Clarke just said. 

_“I thought he was my friend.”_

A new colleague who hit it off with Clarke really fast. Lexa has met him many times. He's a good guy, decent, friendly. They bonded over art. Him and Clarke. He’s an amateur painter, he speaks of painting styles and techniques with a fervor Lexa only knows how to apply to her music. It made Lexa happy to know that Clarke had someone to nerd her interests with. 

Clarke's friend. 

The guy who betrayed her trust and kissed her and took her friendship for granted. 

Lexa gets it now. The anger is not directed towards Clarke. It's _him_.

_I believe you._

The words are stuck in the back of Lexa's throat – not even a _Clarke_ is able to escape – so Lexa pushes against Clarke's shoulder to look at her. If her voice can't communicate, then her eyes will have to.

It's a struggle. Clarke won't let go, afraid that Lexa's push is a definitive shutdown, but Lexa is stronger than her. With both hands, Lexa grips Clarke's shoulders to gain the distance she needs.

Her favorite blue oceans… Clarke isn't supposed to feel guilty. Lexa's lip quivers as she tries once more to tell Clarke she believes her. 

Lexa fails once more. 

Signing isn't an option because Clarke looks like she'll break if Lexa lets go of her. 

There's only one other language they both speak. 

In one swift motion, Lexa surges forward, cupping the back of Clarke's neck pulling her into a kiss. She feels Clarke's body tense up, not expecting the kiss. 

“Lex,” Clarke says, not reciprocating the kiss. 

But Lexa doesn't waver. She keeps kissing Clarke until Clarke melts against her, until Clarke's lips kiss her back, until salty tears blend with saliva. 

Lexa kisses Clarke until the image of someone else kissing Clarke dissipates from her mind. 

Lexa kisses Clarke until Clarke desperately pulls at Lexa's shirt. 

They'll talk tomorrow, Lexa decides, and she helps Clarke strip them both naked, until they're wearing nothing but raw emotion and the relief of finally finding each other in intimacy again. 

There are no distractions tonight. Noel are having a sleepover with his cousin at Auntie Rae’s and Auntie Anya's house. Tomorrow is Sunday and Lexa has a fleeting thought to start up their tradition with a trip to the park again. In fact, she allows to hate herself for letting it slip from their hands to begin with. 

“Stop thinking,” Clarke commands, as she pushes Lexa up against the kitchen counter. 

And Lexa obeys. 

The night is young but washes by in a blur. A starlit sky morphs into the soft glow of dawn, and Clarke wakes with a yawn and a fluttering of her eyelashes. The first thing she sees is a sight she hasn't seen in a long time, and it takes her breath away. 

“Lex,” Clarke whispers. 

Lexa smiles, she knows what it means. It's been a long time since Clarke blushed under Lexa's gaze. 

_“Sometimes you look at me like I put the sun in the sky.”_

_You_ are _the sun in my sky._

It's a soft morning, a Sunday like it should be. Lexa trails lazy fingers along Clarke's warm skin and Clarke shuffles closer to her wife. 

Lips press against golden hair. 

Gentle arms pull a tired body closer.

Legs entangle. 

“Wifey of mine,” Clarke whispers, helped on by another yawn. 

Lexa responds with unshed tears. 

The day begins its journey while they stay in bed absorbing the rare morning peace. It’s a timeless moment later that Lexa finds the clarity she needs to end what she began last night. “I believe you,” she whispers. 

“Thank you,” Clarke murmurs. Like so many times before, Clarke didn't need those words to know. She has grown so accustomed to Lexa's silent language that she knew the minute she kissed her. Lexa may not have said it, but Clarke tasted guilt on her lips. An apology that Clarke owes Lexa, too. They both forgot to nourish their relationship. “I think we need to have more Noel free nights. Just the two of us.” 

“Love you,” Lexa says. There's a mutual understanding of this being Lexa's way of agreeing. 

“I love you too, Lex.”


	4. First Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> I thought it was about time I wrote a new one shot in this AU. And also, I wanted to wish you all a MERRY CHRISTMAS, and what better way than a fluffy winter au with my favorite sappy couple <3
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~anonbeme
> 
> Ps. Noel is a little bit older, this time.

“Do you need help tying your shoes?”

“Uh-uh,” Noel says, shaking his head distractedly. His tongue appears at the corner of his mouth as he grabs the shoelaces. 

With patient eyes, Clarke leans against the wall, arms loosely crossed over her chest, Noel's cap and gloves hung from her hands. She watches as he struggles with the loops. He learned it quickly, but he forgets to tighten the knots, sometimes. 

“Pull,” Clarke reminds him, smiling when he tugs excitedly at the laces.

“Done,” he says, and he pushes himself up off the floor and runs towards the door.

“Noel, your coat.” 

The boy sighs and lets go of the door handle he has already wrestled halfway down and goes to grab his coat. The first arm slides in easily, but the second takes three attempts. Clarke wants to help him, but she knows he’ll just look at her with his adorably offended eyes and say “No!” because he wants to do it himself. Before he can run to the door again, Clarke pushes the cap over his head, sufficiently covering his blond hair, and holds out the gloves for him. He takes them and looks at her expectantly, a nonverbal question that he definitely got from Lexa. 

Clarke kneels, grabs the lapels of his coat, and pulls him closer so she can kiss him on his nose. He makes a face and Clarke grins.

“Ready?”

He nods and mirrors his mom’s grin. 

“Alright, go ahead. Let me just grab my coat and I’m right behind you, okay?”

“Okay,” Noel calls, already surging for the door handle again.

Clarke puts on her coat and picks up the plastic container with the supplies Noel picked out himself. She pulls the door shut behind her and takes a moment to enjoy the sight before her. In the middle of the backyard, Noel is on his knees in the snow already busy shoveling the white stuff into a pile with his tiny arms. 

“If you make a snowball and roll it in the snow it's easier,” Clarke says, hearing her father's voice say the exact same thing in her mind. 

Noel stops and looks up at her. His cheeks are already freshly red, and he wipes his nose with the sleeve of his coat. 

“Want me to show you?” 

“Mhm.”

“Okay. So you make a snowball.” Clarke kneels beside him to demonstrate. She presses snow into a ball between her ungloved hands and proceeds to press it into the snow. “And then you roll it in the snow and it'll grow big like this, see?” 

His eyes grow wide and curious, and he makes his own snowball without another word. Once Clarke tells him to add a bit of pressure, the snowball begins picking up size quickly. 

“See Mom!” He calls, his smile is bright and proud as he points at the snowball that now reaches halfway up his shin. 

“I see it. Good job, Noel. Are we still making three?” 

“Mhm. You, Momma and me,” he nods. 

“Alright. Why don't you start on another snowball and I will finish this one?” 

“Okay.” 

They make three snowpeople. Two big and one small, and as Clarke places the last head on the last body, she catches Noel look towards the house and sign _‘Okay’_.

Clarke barely gets to turn around before a big, fat snowball hits her square in the chest. 

“Wifey of mine!” Clarke gasp screams, “you did not just–”

Another snowball hits her from behind. It's small and soft and feels mostly like a pat on the back of her thigh. 

“Child of mine!” Clarke spins around and looks at Noel with calculating, but playful eyes. She bends her knees and approaches Noel with sneaky steps and outstretched arms. He runs off giggling and almost tripping over his feet in the snow, but before Clarke can get to him, she is tackled to the ground. 

Lexa still has the decency to break the fall, and Clarke forgets for a split second to be mad at her, or at least pretend to be. 

“Lex! Are you okay?” Clarke shifts in her arms to look at her. There's snow in her hair and warmth in her eyes, and Clarke wants to freeze this moment, her fingers itching to curl around a pencil. 

A mischievous smile dances on Lexa's lips, but before Clarke is able to register what happens, another soft snowball hits her from behind. It's delivered with a fit of boyish giggles that has Clarke's heart melting – not even the ice cold snow that Lexa smears in her face can change that. 

“Lex!” Clarke screams. She struggles to swat Lexa's arms away, but really, it's no struggle at all because Lexa surrenders immediately. 

“Clarke.” Lexa smiles that half smile of hers, melting Clarke's heart a bit more. 

And Clarke can't help herself. She leans down to place a soft kiss on her wife's lips. 

And there may be a fragment of a moment where time does freeze, but no more than that because a small snowball impacts with their faces bursting their bubble in a charmingly brutal manner. 

“Noel!” Clarke shrills, and it's no more than a second before she's up and chasing him. This time she catches him, and his giggles grow desperate as she tickles him in the snow. 

Ten feet away, Lexa lies on the ground looking up into the sky. It has begun snowing again, and she watches large fluffy snowflake gracefully drift towards her. She lets her cheeks catch a few, the feather light touch settling in her heart, and she places a hand on her snowflake tattoo for a moment before sitting up. 

“Clarke,” she calls, but the tickle fight drowns out her voice. 

“Clarke!” Lexa calls, a bit louder this time, and Clarke immediately stops and looks at her. She points to the sky and watches her wife take it in, her smile and ocean eyes brightening like a morning sun. 

“It's snowing!” Clarke jumps to her feet and pulls Noel with her. 

Lexa sits dumbfounded on the ground and watches two pairs of ocean blue eyes point upwards, and if she ever doubted that her wife and son share the same DNA, she won't now as they both stick out their tongue to catch snowflakes in perfect synchronicity. 

She sits there watching them with a lovestruck smile on her lips until Clarke goes to pick up the plastic container. 

“So… Noel. How about we give these snowpeople a face, huh?” Clarke places the container on the ground in front of Noel, and he immediately bends over to have a look, his tiny gloves resting on the edge of the box. 

There are carrots for their noses and buttons for their eyes. One snowperson gets green eyes, the other two gets blue ones. They all get a big smiling mouth and a scarf around their neck, and when they're done, Lexa kneels beside Noel and kisses him on the side of his face. 

“Love you,” Lexa says, and Noel signs _‘I love you’_ back. 

Lexa looks up at her wife who studies the snowpeople with a silent yearning. Lexa knows that look, it lives in her own heart. Hopefully, within the next year, they'll be able to tell Noel he'll have a baby sibling. 

Hopefully. 

As for now, Lexa is more than grateful for what she has, and she grabs Clarke's hand and kisses her knuckles, just above her wedding ring. 

“Hot chocolate, anyone?” Clarke asks, blinking away the emotion that had glossed her eyes over. 

“Me!” Noel screams. 

“And Momma?” Clarke grins. 

Lexa straightens up, runs a hand over Noel's head, and kisses her wife on the cheek. She nods and guides her family back inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> Any comments or thoughts you may have, gimme :)  
> You can also find me on twitter (@anonbeme) and tumblr (@anonbemetoo)


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